Don't Blink
by Quinnzical
Summary: Ianto finds himself face to face with a stone angel, forever weeping into its hands.
1. Don't Blink: Chapter One

Don't Blink

_**Standard Disclaimer: **_

_This is a fan written story arc involving characters created and owned by Russel T. Davies and the BBC. The following story is fictional and does not portray and real person or event, any reference to any real person or event is strictly coincidental. _

_No animals were harmed in the making of this fic. _

_**Summary:**_

_A local museum brings statues from around the world to Cardiff for an art display and auction at the bay. Ianto finds himself face to face with one carefully crafted angel, forever weeping into its hands._

**Chapter One**

"Bloody hell, these things creep me out." Owen's face twisted slightly, his head shaking as he took time to linger and examine the various stone creations. "It's the ones of kids that do it. Empty eyes and there is always something off about their expressions. Just sitting there. Not moving. And the angels. Always with the angels crying. Aren't they supposed to be happy to be dead?"

"They're stone, Owen. They don't move and it can't hurt you." Gwen grinned quite happily at his expense, rounding a large and indescribably shapeless piece of marble. "I don't get what this is supposed to be."

"Art." Tosh offered helpfully, shrugging her shoulders in a most delicate and indifferent way. "I think it's lovely. Sort of masculine."

"It's nearly a replica of the Verid males of Jotlau. Missing a few important appendages, though." Jack's brow raised, a lazy grin on his face as he reminisced more than recalled information from the archives of Torchwood. He took a pointed stride towards the tourist office, glancing at his wandering team members. "Enough culture. We have work to do."

"Keep activities near the bay to a minimum and no one uses the lift until this entire thing is over. I have no desire to start handing out Retcon to every tourist who catches a case of curiosity. The auction is at the end of the week and then this whole thing goes away." Jack made his way to his office the moment the cog door rolled back into place, glancing around for their suited caretaker. "Ianto?"

"Yup." Ianto peered out from behind the Rift Manipulator, lips parted and brows raised.

"Coffee?" Jack nearly smiled, his head tilting just slightly before he turned and vanished behind the venetian blinds. He stepped back into the door frame a moment later, just as Ianto had begun making his way to the coffee machine. "I want you in the office to field tourists. We'll call if you're needed."

By the end of the night, Ianto had recounted the history of Cardiff Bay 637 times and recited the most interesting details of the city itself an additional 249. It was odd to lose himself in something mundane, but for the hours that he was able to sit behind the desk and pretend to be someone other than Ianto Jones of Torchwood; he was content.

It felt good to be normal, for once, and to be able to recall information that didn't include vicious alien species and their constant threat to the human race.

He waited until the others had gone for the night, each filing out of the tourist office in turn with a quiet 'good night, Ianto.', before he locked the door and made his way down to the hub to tidy things about. Jack was there, somewhere. Shuffling through papers in his office, or looking over details of past reports in the dusty filing cabinets, doing things that were none of Ianto's concern.

It was his job to clean without question and to make sure that things ran smoothly as silently as possible. Recounting the days adventures after hours with Captain Jack Harkness wouldn't be within his job description. With garbage bags full of scraps of paper, pizza boxes, drink containers and unidentifiable tidbits, Ianto made one last pass through their base before heading out into the cool night air to toss the bags into the nearest bin and head for home.

Autumn was beginning to settle, and there was a crispness to the evening that caused him to shiver a bit within his suit. The plastic bag rustling against his leg with every step, nearly echoing through the assorted pieces of marble and plaster than lay motionless between the water tower and millennium center.

He took his time as he walked from one end of the pier to the other, letting his gaze drift over each masterfully crafted piece in silent admiration. The crowds were gone and his duties for the day were taken care of, he hadn't realized that he was likely the last one on this side of Cardiff to actually see what was drawing such a crowd.

Lingering for a moment to pick up a discarded and forgotten brochure on the event, he let the bag of garbage rest beside him as he idly paged through the glossy photos. There were brief histories of each carving, something he delighted in reading over if only so he had something to recite in the days following should someone ask him. He liked knowing as much as possible. It made him important and reliable when unanswerable questions needed answering.

The event was organized by some rich to-dos in London, bringing together twenty-four collectable pieces to be admired and then sold at auction to profit a charity called 24 hours. There was a snippet in the back regarding the work they do with missing persons cases, funding investigations and searches. They had recovered over a thousand people over the last two decades all over the UK, all having been reported within 24 hours of their disappearances.

Impressive, Ianto thought. If Torchwood had that sort of success rate, they could afford to have a headquarters with windows and maybe a proper door.

He glanced up from the brochure at a faint shadow just beyond his peripheral vision, turning as an uneasiness settled about the cool evening air. In a moment, the deserted bay no longer felt deserted and Ianto Jones was certain he was being watched.

"Jack?" He craned his neck a bit to look around one of the larger pieces, glancing down the row of displayed statues for any signs of movement. Taking slow, hesitant steps, Ianto began walking between each of the large figures. His soft leather shoes creaking quietly against the pavement, as he let his hand shift to where his gun would be if he had remembered to grab it from the desk before leaving the tourist office.

It took him a moment to realize that he had also left behind his comm and his cell phone, both sitting neatly aligned beside each other in the upper most drawer on the left. An inconvenient over-sight that he was starting to regret as the uneasiness began to increase. The uneasiness became more of a nagging feeling that something else wasn't quite right with the art display itself.

It had been itching at the back of his mind since he started the slow investigation to seek out the source of movement. That insufferable feeling that there was something so obvious right in front of his face and yet he was too dumbfounded to see it, screaming out to him 'Ianto! Pay Attention!'.

"Twenty-five." He muttered quietly, taking a step backwards. "There are twenty-five statues."

In the instant of clarity of what it was that had been nagging at his subconscious, he turned on his heel to look back down the row of statues to see exactly what it was that had the back of his neck twinged with fear. The angel had moved and was peeking over it's fingertips.

Ianto blinked.


	2. Don't Blink: Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

_**Author's Note:**_

_This story arc will contain only Angels that kill by letting people live themselves to death._

_Sincere thank you for all the feedback. It motivates and inspires. _

_**Standard Disclaimer: **_

_This is a fan written story arc involving characters created and owned by Russel T. Davies and the BBC. The following story is fictional and does not portray and real person or event, any reference to any real person or event is strictly coincidental. _

_No animals were harmed in the making of this fic. _

"Six messages waiting from the authorities regarding rapid disappearances over the last two nights." Jack regarded the team around the conference table, motioning to a map of the city hung on the far wall, red dots scattered down varying streets. "These are their last known locations, but there hasn't been any notable rift activity. No down spikes, nothing. People are just vanishing into thin air."

"They're all centered around the bay..." Gwen noted, silently counting how many there were.

"Which is why they've called us. They'd like to know if we've had something to do with it, and if not, if we can please figure out what is going on." Jack pursed his lips together, folding his arms over his chest. "It will be a long day. Owen and Tosh, I need you both looking into any CCTV footage during the times of the disappearances. Gwen, cross reference the reports and see if you can find any commonality between the victims. We'll need significant amounts of coffee for this."

He paused, tilting his head. "Where's Ianto?"

"Said something about visiting his sister the other day, must have made plans and forgot to mention it." Owen offered, shrugging his shoulders as he pushed back his chair to follow Tosh to the monitors.

Jack nodded, the suggested explanation settling heavily within his stomach, flipping it about a bit. It was plausible, but unlikely that Ianto Jones, ever fastidious and punctual, would forget to mention that he was taking a vacation.

Following after the others, Jack took a moment to side step and grab his coat, slipping it on his shoulders as the team got to work with a well practiced efficiency. He let his hand rest within the thick pocket of the heavy jacket, absentmindedly turning his cell phone over and over with the tips of his fingers as he debated with himself about calling Ianto.

There was a potential crisis occurring, and it was unnerving that the whole team wasn't there to work through the problem. It would also help to have Ianto's vast knowledge just in case something turned up that none of them were able to puzzle through. The young man was good at puzzles, Jack delighted in seeing him working them out silently in his mind.

He paced a bit, glancing at the screens as Tosh keyed up several different still frames of the victims just moments before they vanished. Upon playing the images forward, it seemed like one moment they were there and the next; gone. There wasn't any change to the surrounding area, no flares of light, no shadows beneath their feet. The recorded video showed them, completely alone, alive and well one moment and the next, it was just empty scenery.

"Tosh back up the video to see if they were being followed. Start with the last ten minutes and go back from there if you don't find anything." Jack paused, turned and continued to pace along the floor, his shoes clicking neatly against the metal and his fingers curling around the cold plastic of his cell.

"People don't just disappear."

Carefully watching the images as the screens played them in reverse, forward and slow motion, the three agents fell into an eerie silence as if they all expected to see some terrible beast appear within a single frame and snatch away those that had gone missing.

"There!" Jack exclaimed louder than he intended, causing both Tosh and Owen to startle a bit. "Play it back a little." He waggled his finger at one of the images, squinting slightly at a vague blur in the corner of the screen. "There is something there. It vanishes right before the girl does."

"It's a blob. Probably just a bit of static." Owen looked back over his shoulder, his voice a pitch higher than normal as if trying to convince himself against the spooks hiding in the shadows. Jack cocked a brow at him, vaguely shaking his head.

"I want images of all the victims, just before they disappear." He let go of the phone in his pocket to fold his arms across his chest, tapping a single finger against his bicep in anticipation. Something felt off, but he had that nagging feeling that they were on the right track to discovering what had happened. "Look, do you see? There it is, something gray just out of focus. It's there, and there, and here.."

He pointed at each of the images, drawing their attention to the figure otherwise easily missed at a glance. "Clean up the images, find out what that is. If we can identify it as something that has the ability to blink someone out of existence, then we can work on saving these people."

Turning quickly enough to swish about the bottom of his coat, Jack reached for his cell phone and flipped it open; fingers dashing over the buttons as he keyed in a well remembered number.

"Jack?" Gwen peered around the monitors on her own desk, confusion on her face. "Where are you going?"

"Ianto doesn't take vacations, and he's never late for work." He glanced back at her, heading for the cog door as he pressed the phone to his ear and listened to it ring. His steps slowed as it continued to do so, unanswered. "He also doesn't screen my calls."

The team fell silent as the possibility that something could have happened to Ianto weighed down on them all. Jack, clicking off the phone, pressed a single button to redial the number. It rang, and in the distance, echoing down the stairs, they could hear Ianto's cell phone responding from the desk of the tourist office.

The captain turned and made rapid strides up the stone steps towards the sound, Gwen following shortly behind him as that air of unease started to permeate and make them all a bit nervous. The phone continued to ring as Jack let his own drift away from his ear and hang at his side, following the tone until the top left most drawer was tossed open and the calling phone clicked off and slid back within the heavy pocket.

"Maybe he left it here because he didn't want to be bothered?" Gwen offered hesitantly, leaning slightly to see within the desk. Jack grabbed and held up Ianto's gun, something they were all instructed very carefully to never leave behind under any circumstances because they all knew the dangers they could face at any moment. "Jack.."

The older man's face was a mix of emotions, all becoming a steeled mask as he ran over a thousand possibilities as to what had caused Ianto to leave all form of protection and communication at the Hub and then disappear. Gwen lightly placed a hand on his arm, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Jack, what's going on? What happened to Ianto?"

TBC

_Next Time, On Torchwood; _

_Ianto Jones discovers what happens when you're killed by the touch of an angel._

_1940's Cardiff has none of the familiarity of his own time; except a man claiming to be Captain Jack Harkness. _


	3. Don't Blink: Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

_**Standard Disclaimer: **_

_This is a fan written story arc involving characters created and owned by Russel T. Davies and the BBC. The following story is fictional and does not portray and real person or event, any reference to any real person or event is strictly coincidental. _

_No animals were harmed in the making of this fic. _

The feeling of being killed by an angel was similar to blacking out at a party, and then waking in your own flat without any memory of how you got there. They were generous, in a way, with their victims. Giving them ample opportunity to live a full life while they feasted off all the potential energy left behind in the wake of their disappearance.

The only psychopaths in the universe to kill people nicely.

He was dropped out of mid air inches above the ground, his shoes hitting pavement as he struggled to regain his balance. A few awkward steps taken backwards, and he clasped his hand to his forehead to fight the burning agony within his skull.

Ianto stumbled off of a curb that had not been behind him a moment before, tripping over his own feet away from the sidewalk and into the middle of a fairly active street. Paying attention to oncoming traffic was not his first concern, as he had been nowhere near any vehicles just a second earlier.

His appearance, to any one observing his disoriented stumble, was that of a drunkard far too gone on holiday ale to take notice of his surroundings. One man, who found the behavior peculiar for being ten in the morning, stopped and drew together his brow in concern as the boy paused in the path of car too close to avoid collision on its own.

No time to call out a warning, he dropped his pack and dashed to the street, throwing himself at the strange man in time to push him out of harms way. The sudden jolt found Ianto pinned between the man who saved his life and a car that had been parked along the curbside.

In those moments there were only a few things that Ianto could be certain of. Firstly, he was no longer outside of the Hub in Cardiff and it was entirely possible that he was hallucinating. This theory based on several small observations that included the sudden appearance of people and vehicles that had not been in operation since his parent's life time, a change in weather, and the replacement of the vacant bay with a bustling thoroughfare.

Secondly, he was no longer alone and had just had his life saved by a tall, dashing stranger, dressed to the nines in a military uniform of decades past. A stranger, who currently held him pinned against the side of a vehicle, lingering longer than necessary with a strong hand resting at Ianto's hip.

He shivered, though he wasn't entirely certain that it was the cold air that caused it.

"Where am I?" He asked softly, his gaze darting around a little as he tried to find something, anything familiar. The buildings were covered in propaganda posters and vague holiday decorations. Shop windows containing signs advertising produce and clothing for less than a quid. The people walking past them, lost in their own routines, all dressed as if taking part in a historical reenactment.

"London." The man responded, stepping away from him as the sudden realization of their proximity dawned upon him. He turned to dodge through traffic in order to retrieve the ruck sack he dropped and stooped to sling it over his shoulder.

"No. I was just in Cardiff. This isn't London." He called out, furrowing his brow.

"Yes it is, kid." The man nearly laughed, motioning down the street to the great clock tower in the distance, shaking his head in a vague flash of amusement. "Proof enough for you?"

Ianto followed his gaze, his lips parting as he stared in disbelief. "But..." He glanced around again, catching a glimpse of a paper thrown aside in a waste bin. The date had him snapping his attention back to the stranger, only to find that he had started walking off.

"Wait!" Dashing through the moving cars, he trailed after him, sticking his hands in his pockets as the chill of the winter air started to bite at his skin. "It's 1940."

"Yup."

"December 5th." Ianto blinked, paling a bit as the impossible became a clear possibility. Nowhere in the recesses of his vast knowledge, was he aware of anything that could simply throw someone through time without there being a significant tear in the rift itself. There wasn't even a vague hypothesis forming in the back of his mind as to what could have happened. He remembered taking out the garbage, flipping through the pamphlet for the art display, and the angel statue that he swore had been moved when he wasn't looking.

Nothing made sense, nothing explained how it could have happened.

"Yup." He raised a brow at the boy that had taken to following him, glancing him over before he paused and motioned to the door of a small cafe. "Come on. You look like you could use a coffee."

And yet, here he was.

**Present Day**

"I want to know where he is." Jack demanded as he paced the hub anxiously, the rest of the team clicking away at computers to clean up image pixels and footage of their missing friend. Each one growing a bit more desperate.

"I've been able to clarify some of the frames, sort of, but most of them remain this gray blur regardless of how many times I enhance the picture." Tosh looked back at him, her brow twitching slightly as she pulled up the footage of Ianto from the night before. "This is Ianto's image. There is the same gray figure, but it's impossible to make out it's species. It's definitely something, but I have no idea what it is."

Jack nodded, "Play it back."

They watched Ianto moving through the statues on display, the footage on a loop from the moment he stepped outside until the second that he vanished. Jack's fingertips tapped lightly at the back of Tosh's chair, his gaze unmoving from the screen.

"He hears something." She muttered, narrating the video feed that they've watched a hundred times. "Right here, he looks up as if he heard something and then he reaches for his gun."

"I told him never to leave it behind." Jack nearly growled, torn between being frustrated with Ianto for his carelessness and the feeling of helplessness over the situation.

"He stops here, and when he turns around...he disappears."

"Play it again." Jack muttered, again. This time, his attention turning to everything on the screen except for Ianto himself. The stone statues stood motionless, and the garbage bag lay abandoned on the pavement. The scene finished with the same mysterious ending. "Tosh bring up a still frame of Ianto while he's looking over the pamphlet., and one of after he has vanished."

Jack's fingers tightened on the chair back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced between the two images. "Something is different, something is off other than Ianto being gone."

"There's a statue missing." Owen had stepped up to look at the two images, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets as he stood beside Jack. "That bloody angel. See, it's there at the end of the row but gone after Ianto disappears."

Jack's brow twitched as he looked rapidly between the other still frames waiting on the various screens, each one holding the image of a blurred, gray figure. The crying angel. "What the hell is it?"

"Jack.." Gwen called out, her voice twinged with a thick layer of unease. "Jack come look... I pulled up the live feed of the CCTV to see if it was returned with the other statues...Jack, it's standing outside." She glanced up and when her gaze returned to the screen before her, she stood with such a force that her chair went skidding back into a shelving unit. "Oh god, what the hell."

Jack nearly jogged across the hub, skidding in behind her to see what it was that had her so startled. The angel stood outside the door to the tourist office, a hand outstretched towards the handle.

"It wasn't like that a second ago. It was all the way over here." She pointed at the screen, motioning a good fifty feet back across the boardwalk of the bay. "I looked up and it was at the door."

There was a sudden feeling of panic in the air, one that had Jack clasping a firm hand on Gwen's shoulder. "Keep your eye on it. Don't look away for a second, I want to know if it moves. Owen, lock down the hub. It isn't getting in here until we know what it is and how to deal with it."

He squeezed at Gwen's shoulder as alarms began to sound and the cog door slid securely into place. "Tosh, research absolutely everything you can on Angels, disappearances, statues.. anything related. I want any information stored in the Torchwood Archives. Go, now!"

Gwen blinked. "Jack, it's gone.. the door is open. It's inside, Jack."

A loud bang sounded from the other side of the heavy cog door, followed by another in short succession. The team found themselves frozen in a moment of time, each one struck by the fear of the unknown and a sense of helplessness aided by the lack of knowledge regarding their enemy.

Jack cocked the hammer on his gun, keeping a careful eye on their last line of defense. If Ianto were there he would have been able to figure out some key piece of information that would be vital to their success and survival. He would know exactly where to look in the archives and its weakness would be revealed long before any of the team was in real danger.

But Ianto was gone, and the threat of danger had come to Torchwood: Cardiff.

Banging loudly at the door.

TBC

_Next Time_

_Video footage found in the Torchwood Archives gives light to The Weeping Angels, but will it be enough to save the rest of the team in time?_


	4. Don't Blink: Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

_**Standard Disclaimer: **_

_This is a fan written story arc involving characters [and dialogue] created and owned by Russel T. Davies and the BBC. The following story is fictional and does not portray any real person or event. Any reference to any real person or event is strictly coincidental. _

_No animals were harmed in the making of this fic. _

_**Author's Note:**_

_The conversation that occurs between Sally Sparrow and The Doctor [See: Blink, Season 3] has been altered to better fit the Torchwood version of this particular Arc. Hopefully, the effect remains the same._

"Statues can't hurt you, Owen. Statues don't move, Owen." Owen narrowed his eyes at Gwen from across the hub, kneeling down to leaf through another drawer of age worn files. "I told you there was something off about them!"

"Oi.. How was I supposed to know that they were aliens?" She leaned over to look around her screen, "It isn't like Torchwood has a great big book with every alien in the universe alphabetically cataloged."

"It's still being written." Jack muttered, "They're up to the letter B, and that's taken half a century."

The banging continued, accenting every few steps that Jack took as he paced the hub. He paused at Tosh's station, glancing up at the screen that held the last still frame of Ianto. His stomach twisting as he started at the grainy image of the dapper young man in a suit. "Tell me you've found something, Tosh."

"A few search markers have brought up random references to The Weeping Angels, but nothing conclusive as to their weaknesses or even their origins. There are some files locked under pretty heavy security codes, but I've almost got them cracked open." She glanced over her shoulder, half raising a brow. "What ever the files are, someone doesn't want them seen."

"Keep working on it. We can't stay in here forever, but we're safe as long as the lock down holds." He shifted slightly to check on Gwen's progress as the Angel continued to pound at the door, looking for weak points in the metal or just simply trying to break through it. He glanced up at the giant cog for only a moment, a shift in the images on Tosh's screen snapping his attention back to her desk as a familiar face appeared.

Perfect hair and glasses smartly placed atop the bridge of his nose; just...sitting there.

"It says here that the videos are files that were found hidden within seventeen different DVDs. Nothing in common with the films, and interviews of the production companies turned up absolutely no information as to how it got there. Torchwood found the video several years ago. This file is definitely linked to The Weeping Angels. It showed up in every search." Tosh looked back at Jack as she tried to decipher what the older man's expression could mean. "Who is he, Jack?"

"It's.. The Doctor.." He stated, "My Doctor."

"Yup, that's me." The Doctor seemingly replied on the video, causing Owen and Gwen to join them at the monitors with ever growing interest.

"Did he just reply to you?" Gwen asked, nearly staring at the look on Jack's normally intense features. He had softened a bit, the expression one of longing and fondness of an old friend...or a lost lover.

"Impossible." Tosh looked back at them, pressing a few buttons on the computer as if to verify that she opened a file and not a live feed. "It's a recording. No matter how many times you play it, he's always going to say that."

"Yes, I do." The doctor stated and immediately caused a brow to rise on each of their intrigued faces. A momentary silence falling between all of them, broken only by another bang at the sealed door.

Tosh pointed at another monitor where she had brought up a text file of the dialogue in the video. "Look here, it has everything he says. Yup, that's me. Yes, I do. Next it's,"

"Are you going to read out the whole thing?" Tosh stopped speaking as her voice matched The Doctors perfectly on the video as it played, the sentence being spoken in absolute synchronicity. "..Sorry."

"What does this have to do with the thing trying to kill us?" Owen folded his arms over his chest, pressing his lips together in nervous agitation. "It's just a stupid video. How is a recording of a doctor supposed to help up fight that.. thing."

"I'm a time traveler."

Jack placed a hand on Tosh's shoulder, urging her back to work. "Keep looking into the files, find out who discovered the video and what movies they are attached to. There has to be a reason that Torchwood has this."

"Certainly." The Doctor stated.

Tosh paused in her search, her fingers stilling over the keys as she allowed herself to run a thousand horrible scenarios through her mind. "Jack you only mention the Doctor when it's the end of the world. If they're that much trouble, what about Ianto? The Angel got him.. didn't it?"

"'Fraid so." A mysterious confirmation followed, and Jack found it hard to swallow. The thought that he lost Ianto for good, without a chance to say good bye..without a chance to tell him how much he was appreciated; how much he was loved.

Gwen shifted on her feet, running a hand back through her hair as she stepped away in an attempt to process all of it. "Jack, I don't get it. If this was recorded in 1969, how is it that it sounds like he's replying to us? How can he know what we're going to say 40 years before we say it?"

"38."

Tosh shook her head, finding the coincidental replies far too disturbing to simply _be_ coincidental. "I am recording this. All of the responses, I am going to archive them with the original data." She turned slightly in her chair, typing furiously at her keyboard. Gwen jumped at another bang at the door, motioning almost desperately at the screens.

"How is this possible, Jack? I don't understand. Tell me how this is possible." She demanded, but only got silence in return. Their captain could only stare at the Doctor, it was never easy to explain him to other people that hadn't met him yet.

"Eh.. People don't understand time. It's not what you think it is." He stated and Gwen turned to face the image as if he were a real person.

"Then what is it?"

"Complicated."

She scoffed, folding her arms about her chest in defiance. "Try me."

"Very Complicated."

"Oh sod off! We've lost Ianto, and that thing is trying to get in here to kill us. I won't take, 'complicated for an answer.'"

The Doctor shifted, licking his lips as he tried to prepare a response that would be easily understood. "People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear... non-subjective view point it's more a big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff."

"This is _The_ Doctor?" Owen asked, shaking his head. "Can't even keep a thought coherent."

"It got away from me, yeah.."

Taking a deep breath, Gwen shifted on her feet and slid into a chair beside Tosh. No matter how she tried to explain it to herself, the prospect that someone in the past could know what she was saying in the future was absolutely beyond her.

"This is bullocks. He can't hear us."

"I _can_ hear you." He stated simply. The angel slammed against the door again. "Well, not hear you but I know everything you're going to say."

"How?"

"Look to your left."

Gwen glanced over at Tosh, furrowing her brow at the dainty Japanese girl as she paused in her typing. "It's you, Tosh.."

"I've got a copy of the finished transcript." The Doctor half grinned, motioning at the screen. "It's on my Auto-Queue."

Owen clicked his tongue. "How does he get something that Tosh is writing now?"

"I told you, I'm a time traveler. I got it in the future."

Jack's arms curled around himself, a half lazy grin on his lips. "Let me get this straight. You're reading aloud from a transcript of a conversation that you're still having."

"Wibbly Wobbly, Timey Wimey." He shook his head, "What matters is, we can communicate, and you have a big problem now, Jack."

Three sets of eyes turned from the screens to look at their captain, sudden surprise flickering in all of them. Jack simply narrowed his own as his jaw clenched. "The angels..."

"Creatures from another world."

"They're stone statues." Gwen stated quietly, glancing at the door as it banged again.

"Only when you see them." His voice lowered a bit, Jack stepped forward. "Lonely Assassins, what they used to be called. They're as old as the universe or very nearly. And they have survived this long because they have the most perfect defense system ever evolved."

A bang sounded.

"They're quantum locked. They don't exist while they're being observed. The moment they're seen by any living creature, they freeze into rock. No choice, it's a fact of their biology. In the sight of any living thing, they literally turn to stone. And you can't kill a stone."

He paused, and another bang echoed as the team listened intently.

"Course a stone cant kill you either, and then you turn your head away. You blink. And oh yes it can. That's why they cover their eyes. They're not weeping, they can't risk looking at each other. Their greatest asset is their greatest curse. They can never be seen. Loneliest creatures in the universe."

"They're abstract, feeding off the potential energy of a lifetime by displacing someone in time."

"How do we stop them?" Jack glanced back at the cog door, his jaw tightening. "What about Ianto?"

"And that's it. There's no more from you on the transcript, that's the last I've got. I don't know what stopped you talking but I can guess. The angels are coming for you, but listen. Your life could depend on this. Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They're fast, faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away and don't blink. Good luck."

"Wait! Doctor! We need your help, what about Ianto!"

Gwen glanced back at the cog door, standing suddenly as she reached out and tugged at Jack's coat. Tosh stood as well, her breath catching in her throat. "Jack... It stopped."

Silence had fallen over the hub and the lights flickered, every computer system momentarily frozen. The video recording skipped slightly, restarting the last few moments.

"Blink and you're dead." The doctor stated before the computer systems shut down entirely, the lights in the hub flickering as a faint sound began echoing through the ventilation systems. A low click that was moving slowly closer. Jack removed the gun from his holster, cocking back the hammer as he looked up towards the highest walls.

"It's inside."

TBC

_Next Time_

_Will the team be able to defeat The Weeping Angel before anyone else falls victim to it's deadly touch?_


	5. Don't Blink: Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

_**Standard Disclaimer: **_

_This is a fan written story arc involving characters [and occasionally dialogue] created and owned by Russel T. Davies and the BBC. The following story is fictional and does not portray any real person or event. Any reference to any real person or event is strictly coincidental. _

_No animals were harmed in the making of this fic. _

_**Author's Note**_

_Your feedback has all been invaluable to me, and I wish that I was able to reply to each of you in turn. Unfortunately, I post these chapters from my phone [no actual internet] so responding on a touch screen keyboard is incredibly difficult. [without mass errors] _

_However, if you'd like to chat and have AIM instant messenger, I am easily found. I would love to meet all of you [in a way], perhaps exchange ideas and hear your constructive criticisms. _

_My user name is __**Quinnzical**__. [Clever, I know.]_

Ianto struggled with himself as he fought to decide what the appropriate reaction should be. He considered panic, but his extensive training with Torchwood and polite upbringing helped him to contain the urge. There was a moment where he felt that perhaps desperation or fear would be suitable, but there was still a small chance of rescue and while that minute chance existed, he would resist either of those. And it wasn't as if a temporal shift or time displacement was something completely out of the ordinary.

There were protocols for this sort of thing, procedures that he had spent several months looking over, memorizing and running through; just in case. Of course, Torchwood had a protocol for nearly everything that someone could imagine, it didn't necessarily mean that they were practical or effective.

The first step, when finding oneself in a different time, was to clearly establish ones bearings, which he had done out on the street with the stranger who saved his life. It was December 5th, 1940 and he was in London. There were worse places he could be, he supposed, and as long as he was able to arrange a rescue before January, there would be little chance of an untimely death forty years before his birth.

The following steps all involved not altering the course of history, which was fairly self explanatory even to someone who hadn't been given a guide book to time anomalies. All he had to do was to keep a low profile, and think of a way to get a message back to the team in the future.

The steam had long disappeared from the mug of coffee that sat on the table, Ianto far too lost in his thoughts to consider drinking it or speaking to the man that bought it for him. An enigma, himself, the reasons as to why this soldier insisted on keeping him company was one of the many things that he was attempting to puzzle through. Perhaps he felt responsible for making sure that Ianto was stable enough before he left him on his own again, or maybe it was just curiosity as to the odd behavior and strange clothing. Though, the suit wasn't that strange if only just slightly different than the common styles of the day. It took until the mug was replaced with one containing fresh coffee for Ianto to finally speak.

"Thank you.." He managed, taking a deep breath and regarding the man with the faintest of smiles.

"Ah! You speak. I was beginning to worry after that adventure outside." He grinned quite happily, sipping at his own coffee as he leaned to rest his elbows on the table. "What's your name, kid?"

"Ianto, sir." He brought the mug to his lips, blowing lightly across the surface. "Ianto Jones."

"Ianto Jones, pleasure to meet you." He grinned, extending a hand across the table. "I'm Captain Jack Harkness, 133rd squad. You're not in uniform, are you on leave?"

"No, not in the service." Visibly startled, Ianto could do little else but stare as his hand lingered within the firm grip of the soldier's own. It seemed almost impossible that there would be someone with the same name and title as the man he knew in the future. Harkness wasn't exactly a common surname. "Did you say... Captain.. Jack Harkness?"

"Heard of me?"

"No, just.. a...coincidence." Ianto let his hand slip away from Jack's, his fingers wrapping lightly around the mug in front of him. The frown on his lips speaking volumes of what he wasn't able to say about his Jack. He couldn't mention that they worked together for a secret organization in the future, that they were occasional lovers, or that he may never see him again because he wasn't sure how he ended up sixty years into the past. Not that he could mention that, either. "I know … knew a man with a similar name."

"Look, kid. I don't know you, but I've seen that look on the faces of hundreds of men your age. War is a terrifying thing, hell, it wouldn't be war if it wasn't terrifying. Doesn't mean that you can let shell-shock be an excuse for going AWOL." Jack stared him down a little, a vague glimmer of disappointment for the boy he had just met flickering across his dashing features. "There are clinics, people you can talk to. You'll need to report to your Captain."

"I am not in the service, Sir." It took him a moment to realize what he was being accused of, and in 1940 it wasn't taken lightly. Firing squads would be involved. "I work for a family in Cardiff. I am not sure how I ended up here, the last thing I remember was taking out the garbage."

"You're a butler?" He raised a brow, letting his gaze drop a little to look Ianto over. The finely pressed material of his jacket, the tie that was placed just so against his throat, and the meticulous way that it all hung absolutely perfect on his slender frame. "That explains the suit."

"In a way." Ianto slid the mug of coffee away, pushing back his chair to stand. "I thank you, again, for saving my life, and for the coffee, but I must be going. Though I am sure they are coping just fine, I do need to find a way back to them. There is no telling what they've gotten themselves into while I have been away."

**Present Day**

Through the vast tunnels of ventilation systems that moved throughout the Hub's infrastructure, the smallest sounds of clattering stone on metal could be heard. Nervous gazes constantly flicking up to dark corners and closed doorways as if expecting to see the empty eyes of the Angel that was hunting them.

"Keep looking, Tosh." Jack commanded, studying every part of the main room for any shift in movement that didn't belong to the team. "It has to have some sort of weakness, something we can use against it."

"There's nothing Jack. Nothing. Everything I search for just leads back to those videos of The Doctor." Her voice was edging on desperate, the constant sound of the monster inching closer causing her nerves to shatter into a thousand panicked pieces.

"We've got guns." Owen offered. "Lots and lots of very big guns."

"Won't work, Owen." Gwen shook her head. "You ever shot a gun at a stone wall before? Chips it a bit, bullets go ricocheting everywhere." They all looked up as a momentary silence fell again, a small yelp escaping Toshiko's lips as she pointed towards one of the high vents.

"There! It's here!"

"Don't look away! Don't any of you look away!" Jack demanded, as they all started to move as far from it as possible, navigating around chairs and desks by touch alone. "We need to get to the vaults. I have an idea."

"Jack, we'll be trapped down there. There's no way out."

"Everyone start moving, carefully. Keep your eyes on it." Jack made sure the others were doing as he said before he glanced away to plot their course through the Hub. He directed them with soft nudges, pulls at their sleeves and encouraging words. At the door way leading down to the vaults, he lingered last and kept his gaze locked up on the statue.

It was just sitting there, it's empty gaze staring down as it waited for the moment they would look away, the moment they would break eye contact, the moment they would blink. It was unfortunate that Tosh would stumble off the steps, Owen reflexively reaching for her and Gwen moving to help. Small grunts of discomfort slipping from her lips as she was helped to her feet. Jack looked back for only a moment to realize that none of them were looking up any longer.

He snapped his gaze back to the Angel only to see it frozen along the wall, crawling down pipes and wiring with rows of stone teeth bared at them. "Keep moving!"

Jack made sure the others were moving quickly towards the vaults before he stepped backwards through the doorway, a momentary glance and the angel was standing over the threshold. It's arms outstretched and those eyes staring. Always staring.

Gwen screamed as she turned, catching sight of the beast that stalked them. Jack was moving backwards, his gaze never faltering. He knew that a split second could cost him the rest of his team, and he had already lost Ianto.

"Get inside the vault..."

"Jack?" Tosh was hesitant, not sure how the four of them getting inside a small room with no way out would save their lives, destroy the creature or bring Ianto back.

"Now!" He took another step back, his hand hovering over the switch that would snap the door shut and lock it into place. "I have an idea, you'll just have to trust me."

"Jack! No!" Gwen threw herself at the door, her attempts to stop him all in vain as it snapped shut and the heavy locks slid into place. Trapping them within, and trapping Jack outside with The Weeping Angel. "Jack!"

Every careful step backwards brought him further away from the monster, and every corner he turned would bring it instantly closer again. He used those moments where he would lose sight of it to close his eyes for the briefest of moments, fending off the air that threatened to dry them out enough to cause a fatal mistake.

He only had to make it to the roof. If he could make it to the roof, there was a chance he could save them all.


	6. Don't Blink: Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

_**Standard Disclaimer: **_

_This is a fan written story arc involving characters [and occasionally dialogue] created and owned by Russel T. Davies and the BBC. The following story is fictional and does not portray any real person or event. Any reference to any real person or event is strictly coincidental. _

_No animals were harmed in the making of this fic. _

_**Author's Note**_

_Short Chapter._

_I may have resolved the suspense too quickly for my taste, but as this story arc will continue on, I didn't want to drag out the running and not blinking for too long. _

_There is only so much running and not blinking one can do. _

_**Contact the Author:**_

_AIM - Quinnzical_

There was a chance that Jack Harkness had just signed a death sentence for thousands of people, and a very slow execution for his friends that he locked within the vault. There was no way for them to get out, and no one knew they were down there except for him. His plan relied on a lot of chance, a significant amount luck and an immeasurable quantity of Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey.

It also required that he die. Again.

Atop the highest point of the millennium center, Jack stood and stared down the angel that was flickering closer. The back of his heels hung from the edge of the roof, and he took the deepest of breaths before he closed his eyes for one last time.

Far below where he stood, the last three members of their ragtag team had settled into various places within the small cell. Tosh, leaning against a corner, sat and watched Owen as he sat on the bench. He had a nervous habit of running his hands through his hair, and she took note of how he was doing it almost obsessively since the door locked shut. Gwen was pacing the door, looking out of the small window expectantly only to find the empty hall waiting beyond.

"What is he doing?" She tried to push at the door again, banging the side of her fist futilely against the steel surface. Jack had just left them. Locked them away and left them while he ran off to deal with the problem on his own. It was beginning to become a bad habit of his. "What if it killed him and it comes back?"

"Would you sit down." Owen snapped, "..even if it does, it can't get in here."

"So what, we starve to death?"

"Until we start eating each other." Tosh made a face, twisting her expression into one of unavoidable disgust. Cannibalism wasn't high on her list of things to do, especially not after what happened a few months ago. At least if they resorted to it within the vault, it would be out of desperation and survival.

Gwen would probably be the first to go.

She paced again, stopping to look out the window once more only to jump back with a scream of nerve induced terror. Through the thick glass, the blank stare of The Weeping Angel met her gaze.

There came a tap at the door. Ever so slightly before metal began clinking together and the lock shifted open. All three pushed back against the wall, breaths held tight within their chest and the door opened.

"Do you think I could hang this on the wall?" Jack asked, holding the piece of stone that contained the face of the Angel in his hand. He looked it over, giving a vague shrug. It took them all a moment, silence settling before Gwen stepped forward to simultaneously slap and hug their faithful Captain. "Jack! What happened? How did you.. I thought you couldn't kill a stone, The Doctor said you couldn't kill a stone."

In the moments prior, Jack stood at the edge of the roof and waited for his eventual end. His coat shifting slightly in the wind as he allowed the Angel to get close to him. There was a great deal that went through his mind at that moment, a great deal of planning that he couldn't flub or else the world could be at risk.

"Crossing your own time line can be catastrophic." He stated matter-of-factual, recounting the last few moments that he had on the roof with The Weeping Angel to the team.

He stood and waited, counting in his thoughts until a very, very specific moment when he simply closed his eyes. What easy prey for a Weeping Angel, what an easy kill for one that tries to run and then runs out of places to go. He was counting on the creatures being vicious though not very clever.

"I had to live through the Eighties again...if that was punishment enough, I suppose. And it took a lot of traveling over seas to avoid running into myself between then and now. But I knew the date, and I knew the exact moment so.. I waited on the rooftop. I waited and listened for my own footsteps, and then I listened for the train in the distance."

On the third sound of the train's whistle, Jack closed his eyes and let the Angel kill him, vanishing out of sight and back into time.

"I stepped out once I knew that I would be gone, catching the Angel before it could disappear and.. I gave it a shove." He shrugged. "Not very poetic."

Jack leaned to watch the Angel fall, the stone shattering on the ground below, luckily missing anyone that happened to be walking around the bay looking over the art display. He blinked, just to make sure, and the pieces remained. Nothing but stone; broken and harmless.

There was a calm relief that washed over the team, the panic gone and the routine back in place as they each took up their posts to clean up what needed to be cleaned up and filed what needed to be filed. Jack retreated to his office in the midst of the required paperwork, followed a moment later by Tosh. She held in her hand a glass bottle of liquor and set it lightly on the edge of the desk.

"Jack.. if the Angel is destroyed..how will we get Ianto back." She frowned, her eyebrows knitting together as the relief of survival gave way to an all too familiar feeling that came with working for Torchwood. "Jack...Ianto is dead.. isn't he?"

TBC

_Next Time_

_Nearly a month passes while Jack obsesses over finding Ianto. _

_Will they save him before the Cardiff Blitz?_


	7. Kiss The Boys Goodbye: Chapter One

**Kiss The Boys Goodbye**

**Chapter One**

_**Standard Disclaimer: **_

_This is a fan written story arc involving characters [and dialogue] created and owned by Russel T. Davies and the BBC. The following story is fictional and does not portray any real person or event. Any reference to any real person or event is strictly coincidental. _

_No animals were harmed in the making of this fic. _

"Listen to me." Ianto brushed his hand over his forehead, the frustration of repeating himself creeping into his words. "I know that the address doesn't exist, but it is an experiment for my university. We want to see if, in the future, the address will exist and if it does...who will get this letter."

"What does it say?" The boy behind the counter asked, popping a bit of chewing gum as he continued to give Ianto the look that screamed 'you're bloody insane and I don't believe a word you're saying.'

"Nothing important, it actually isn't even a letter. It's just one of those fliers for the dance that is coming up. A historic memento for the future generations." He opened the envelope and pulled out the piece of paper, unfolding it to show the bold letters KISS THE BOYS GOODBYE, January 20th 1941. "See?"

"You do know that we ain't responsible for lost post if you're sending it to an address that don't exist." The kid stretched out his hand, setting the envelope in front of him to begin stamping and recording various information.

"I know, that's why I don't want it sent now. I want you to hold it and have it sent in the future, on this date." Ianto quickly wrote down a date and slid the piece of paper across to the boy. His fingertips lightly tapping as he silently counted away the minutes of how long he had been standing there trying to explain a simple concept like delayed post to this mindless child.

Jack was waiting for him, and this was taking far too long.

He told him that he was going to check postal records for the family he supposedly worked for, the cover story having gotten him this far as long as he didn't make too much of an effort to seek them out. Jack believed every word he said anyway, never really questioning it, though Ianto wasn't sure why.

"Alright. I'll set it in the back with the military letters that ain't gonna get sent out until we get word that the soldiers have all died." He shrugged, finishing up with his notes before he stood to leave the counter. Ianto found the last part heartbreaking, and a little irritating that the kid was so damned cavalier about it. Was that how hopeless everyone felt in this time, that they already had letters to widows printed off and ready to be sent in the morning post?

He took a deep breath and crossed his fingers that the plan would work. It had been forty four days since he disappeared from his own time, and forty four days since he had last seen his own Jack Harkness.

The Captain was waiting vigilantly out on the sidewalk, a grin on his lips once Ianto stepped outside and joined him at his side. "Did you find anything?"

"No, Sir." He gave a light shrug, stepping along as they began walking back to the hotel room they shared.

"Ianto, it's been well over a month since you've started working for me. You don't have to call me Sir." He gave the younger man a slight nudge, clapping his hand onto Ianto's shoulder. "Jack is fine."

From the day they parted in the cafe, Ianto found himself constantly crossing paths with Captain Jack Harkness. If it wasn't at a train station, it was at a pub or a hotel. Eventually, they spoke again and growing concern for the boy's well being, alone and with shattered memories, provoked Captain Harkness into offering him a job.

A glorified errand boy, though Jack had a nicer term for it. He fetched things, tailored damaged clothing, carried his pack and frequently sent off the latest pretty girl that had the pleasure of keeping the charming soldier company for the night. In a way, it made Ianto feel right at home.

There was just one glaringly significant thing missing. At the end of the night, Ianto would still think about his own Jack and forty four days later, he found himself almost heartbroken at the thought that he would never see him again. The heartbreak only increased as he considered the possibility that, perhaps after all this time, Jack would no longer be interested.

Across time, the leader of Torchwood: Cardiff couldn't find a moment where Ianto wasn't on his thoughts. Every mission brought up the question of whether or not it could be relevant to finding him, and every rift spike was looked into deeply for signs of their lost friend. Only once did Owen dare to ask if they were going to close out Ianto's file, if they were going to mark him for deceased.

The bruise he got across the cheek lasted for weeks, and the topic was never brought up again.

On the forty fourth day since Ianto's disappearance, Jack felt his heart fall to his feet when digging through a pile of papers revealed an age worn envelope addressed to Torchwood. The handwriting was familiar, despite the date stamp on the front stating that it was originally archived with the postal service on January 18th of 1941. He slipped his thumb between the folds of paper, tearing it open with an anxious vigor and unfolded the faded parchment in anticipation.

It was a poster advertising a dance for soldiers soon to be sent to war, and nothing else. Only Kiss The Boys Goodbye inked across the surface, worn from decades of being folded and shoved away.

"Owen?" He called out, stepping from his office with the paper in hand. "Owen, what do you know about this?" Jack held up both the envelope and the poster, their medic leaning up to peer out from the autopsy bay with eyes squinted.

"Oh, it's nothing. We've been getting random stuff about this place down town a ways. People say there's spooks about, weird music playing though it's been abandoned for years. Stuff like that poster always coming in anonymously. Just a ghost hunt, ain't worth the time." He shrugged, turning to disappear back within the pit.

"It's from Ianto, Owen." Jack nearly growled, the words drawing both Gwen and Tosh's attention from across the hub as Jack turned rapidly on his heel to grab his coat. "The address on the envelope is in Ianto's handwriting."


	8. Kiss The Boys Goodbye: Chapter Two

**Kiss The Boys Goodbye**

**Chapter Two**

_**Standard Disclaimer: **_

_This is a fan written story arc involving characters [and dialogue] created and owned by Russel T. Davies and the BBC. The following story is fictional and does not portray any real person or event. Any reference to any real person or event is strictly coincidental. _

_No animals were harmed in the making of this fic. _

_**Author's Note:**_

_ I have gotten quite a bit of feedback regarding this fic, and the most common questions all have to do with the Jack that Ianto has run across in 1940. It is the Real!Jack Harkness that he is currently tagging along with, and not Torchwood!Jack Harkness. Ianto was surprised at his name, but not his appearance because the two Jack's, though similar in some ways, look nothing alike. I hope that clears up some confusion, and I apologize for not making it more obvious earlier on in the story. Thank you for all of your wonderful feedback. We may now continue..._

Every time the sun would rise on another day in 1941, Ianto felt his stomach twist just a little bit more. It meant that another day had passed without the team having found a way to rescue him, and it was one day closer to the inevitable moment when they would give up all together. If they hadn't given up already.

Ianto watched the sunrise from the hotel windows, and held his breath for the briefest of moments. The city was beautiful in this time; elegant and simple, free from the eventual metropolis that would bury Cardiff in noise and pollution. He adjusted his tie as he watched the people below, reflexively tying the knot at his throat while he allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts.

It was no wonder that Jack always got -that look- on his face whenever one of the team would mention the past. That look of longing for a part of history that glimmered with untainted beauty. Fond memories of a better time, and Ianto could see exactly why. Jack Harkness, his Jack, fit in perfectly with the dashing soldiers of the forties. It was as if he lived through the decade and then absolutely refused to let it go, especially when he was wearing his coat. ...oh how Ianto loved that coat.

Captain Jack stepped out of the bathing room, a towel tied around his hips as he strode casually across the hotel room. His pack lay in a jumble on the floor, various items hanging out of the zippered opening from the nights haste in undressing before the overwhelming urge to sleep had either of them passed out on the floor.

"Ianto... where is my uniform?" He looked up, almost in shock at the possibility that the boy he hired to help him, may have lost something that important. Ianto merely smiled and opened the closet door, pulling out the missing clothing.

"I took the liberty to press it this morning, Sir. I wouldn't dream of sending you out to protect my homeland looking as if you dressed from your luggage." Ianto removed it from where it hung, taking the individual pieces and laying them out on the bed. "If there is nothing else, Sir, I will leave you to dress."

There was a moment of quiet contemplation as Jack sat at the edge of the mattress, the water dripping down from his hair across his cheek and over the exposed skin of his chest. "Ianto...do you ever think about fear?"

"I try not to make it a habit, Sir."

"You can call me Jack.." He continued to insist and Ianto continued to avoid it. It didn't feel right, saying Jack's name when he wasn't there. There was a small sigh as he shed the towel and started to slip into his military clothing, paying no mind to whether or not Ianto lingered at the door way. "I have all those boys to look after, and they're all looking up to me for guidance..to be some sort of strength for them."

"Sir?"

"I am terrified, Ianto. Terrified of losing more of my men, terrified of what we will face out there..."

"It is normal to fear, sir. True strength comes with how you face those fears, and whether or not you let them define you." Ianto shifted to lean against the door frame, darting a glance at Jack as he slipped into his trousers and fastened them to perfection at his hips. "I think you are a most admirable Captain, and if it is your fear that has made you the man that you are, then it is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I suppose not." Jack looked over at him, watching him for a moment before the faintest of smiles curved his lips. There was something about the young man that drew the captain's gaze and kept it lingering. Something about the way he lean on the edge of the door, or perhaps it was the way he had dressed that morning. Maybe it was just the kind words that he shared so openly, as if it was absolutely normal. As if that sort of familiarity was acceptable.

Of course, there was more that Captain Harkness feared than war and it started with an odd sort of feeling in his stomach. Like butterflies playing with flaming torches, all warm and tingling. "I would be lost without you, Ianto Jones."

**Present Day**

Jack needed Ianto at his side, though he would be hard pressed to admit such a thing. He needed the stability and unrequited affection, the silent adoration and the dedication to both Torchwood and their secret affairs. It was growing difficult to imagine continuing on without Ianto for very much longer.

Luckily, they had finally gotten a clue. No thanks to Owen, of course. Jack nearly growled as he thought it over. How long had they been receiving anonymous tips about the building? How long had Ianto been making desperate attempts to contact them from the past? They could have been working on a solution, hell... by now they could have had him home.

"Tosh, I'm at the building. I don't see anything to obvious...but.." Jack listened out on the sidewalk, his hand lingering at his ear as he looked up towards the windows. "I hear music."

"People have been reporting music for months now, no one has been able to find anything inside." Gwen chimed in over the comm, languidly clicking away through articles about the building for any information that might be helpful. Jack was already headed inside, taking the steps a few at a time as a broad grin brightened his features. Fond memories flooding back as the music faded out and then gained momentum a second later.

"Oh..this place is -beautiful-. You really should see it." He made his way through a small corridor, his steps bringing him to another set of stairs that had been badly graffiti-ed. Jack looked past the spray paint and posters to see what once lay beneath. Fine decorations, soft lighting, the sweet voice of a young singer and gorgeous men and women dancing the night away.

He closed his eyes for a moment, turning on his heel as he imagined what it was like so long ago. Wonder if Ianto was there, was he finding as much pleasure in it as he once did. Gwen was reciting historical facts about the building, but Jack wasn't listening. He was lost in his memories, a bright grin on his lips as the phantom music returned and he followed it like a sailor follows the call of a siren.

Discarded papers drifted around his feet as he made his way through the halls and started up a worn flight of stairs. The smooth sounds of jazz music calling to him from above, beckoning him closer. "There is definitely music here, and it's louder upstairs. I am going to go have a look. Are you finding anything else that might be from Ianto?"

"Not yet, Jack, but there is a slight rift activity increase in your area. It spikes a bit every time you mention the music." Tosh flicked her gaze over her screen, studying the formula that was being recorded with every passing moment.

Jack stepped and turned a corner, his hand resting at his ear as the grin widened and his eyes brightened. The derelict and abandoned room was full of lively people, loud music, and warm lights. The defacement of the property had vanished and the cold air that had seeped through broken windows was gone. There was just the men and their beautiful women, celebrating a night without battles.

"Tosh, this is amazing. It's some sort of temporal shift." He pressed a few buttons on his wrist band, studying the readout before he snapped it shut and pressed his hand to his comm again. "Tosh?"

"Jack? Can you hear me? The rift alarm is going crazy. Is everything alright?"

"Tosh?" He narrowed his eyes, slipping around a corner to an empty hall to pull his cellphone from his pocket. The buttons did nothing, and silence only followed an attempted call. Whatever was causing the illusion upstairs was blocking communications. He gave a fond look to the young men, and a glance to the women that kept them company before he made his way back down the stairs to the front door.

"Do call again, Sir." An elderly chap stated, holding open the door as Jack moved hesitantly towards it.

"I would love to. I really would." He smiled and turned, stepping out into the night air.

Certainly odd, considering that it had been the middle of the afternoon when he arrived at the abandoned building. There also hadn't been Union Jack's hanging from every window, or a crisp copy of the poster they had received in the mail hanging on the brick wall across the street as if it had been newly printed.

Another trip back in time, another romp with sweet memories and familiar feelings. The slightest moment passed where he considered living it out all over again, seeing the world of the past from a different set of coordinates. But it wasn't just him that was trapped so far from home.

He had to find Ianto.

There was no telling what trouble the young man had found himself in, or what dangers he had been facing by himself for the last month and a half. Jack slipped the comm piece from his ear and made his way back inside, following the music back to where the majority of the men were gathered. If Ianto was here, he would find him, and then it would only be a matter of time before they were able to return home. ..and if they weren't able to get back, at least they would no longer be apart.


	9. Kiss The Boys Goodbye: Chapter Three

**Kiss The Boys Goodbye**

**Chapter Three**

_**Standard Disclaimer: **_

_This is a fan written story arc involving characters [and dialogue] created and owned by Russel T. Davies and the BBC. The following story is fictional and does not portray any real person or event. Any reference to any real person or event is strictly coincidental. _

_No animals were harmed in the making of this fic. _

_**Author's Note:**_

_Did I mention you can also find me on Twitter? __**Quinnzical_ **_

_That trailing underscore is required_

_I frequently wax poetic about the fics I am working on, along with ideas for future stories._

_If nothing else, it will help you brush up on your stalking abilities._

_Wish me luck in distinguishing between the Jacks in the following chapters. *Gulp*_

"Jack?" Gwen tried the comm again, simultaneously pressing buttons on her cell phone. She clicked her tongue in frustration as a default message informed her that the subscriber she was trying to reach, had been disconnected. Blinked out of existence was more like it. "Tosh, what are the chances that there is another one of those Angel things?"

"Nothing on the scans, now that I know what I am looking for. This is the rift, not something that's come through it." A myriad of numbers and letters were popping onto the screen as Tosh worked diligently to create a formula that would find and return the missing team members. So far, all it was accomplishing was a vague ache in her wrist and a twinge behind her eyes.

"There is an easier way to do this." Owen stated, folding his arms in front of his chest as he leaned against the desk. "We could use the Rift Manipulator. Open the rift."

"No, Owen. Jack would never allow it." She raised her hand as if to brush away the idea, turning back to her work. Owen leaned forward, a half grin on his lips and that particularly mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"Jack...isn't here, love."

Jack was in 1941, and unlike his co-workers, he was loving every moment of it. A glass of water in hand, and a smile on his face. He mingled, danced and found a quaint group of men to sit with and share a laugh. As he regaled them with one of his own stories of battle, slight details left out including time, place and species of the enemy, he found himself interrupted by a murmur that moved through the crowd and finally reached his ears.

The Captain had arrived, and it had the boys standing a bit taller and drinking a little less. Their commanding officer certainly earned a great deal of their respect, it was something that Jack could see without having met the man. A fellow captain that garnered that sort of response was a man worth meeting, indeed.

Ianto followed just behind Captain Jack, crossing the threshold into a building full of music, laughing and young men trying to forget the things they had seen in the arms of a beautiful woman. He helped the elder man slip from his jacket and let it hang over his own arm as polite conversation continued on.

"This way, Sir..." A man in a cravat approached, signaling for Ianto to follow. His voice was even and verging on sing-song, something that caused a vague amount of unease for the young time traveler. "My name is Bilis, Bilis Manger, I will show you to the coat room."

He was hesitant to follow the man that gave him uncomfortable shivers, but Jack turned to look at him, smiled and the hesitation faded. The smile was warm and went all the way to the blue eyes that regarded him so kindly. Ianto inclined his head and turned to leave the captain standing with his men, following Bilis down halls that became empty and rooms that turned quiet.

"Where may I hang the coat, Sir?" Ianto asked, looking around at the odd sort of office at the back of the building. Bilis turned, regarding him with a piercing stare that chased away the warmth Jack brought him, replacing it with the awkward cold. "Captain Harkness is waiting.."

There were more than a few moments that passed by, the silencing hanging in the room causing Ianto's brow to knit together in the slightest. Bilis's lips twitched, a ghost of a grin threatening to appear.

"Yes. He is, isn't he?" He brought his hands around to reach for the jacket, taking it from the boy's arm and delicately brushing away the faint creases. "I do hope you enjoy the evening."

Ianto nodded and stepped away slightly, his hand reaching for the door behind him as he kept his gaze on the elderly man. Though he appeared old, and potentially frail, he knew better than to assume harmlessness based on how someone looked. Bilis gave him the willies, to use a term from his childhood, and Torchwood taught him never to ignore that feeling.

Eager to return to part of the building that held lively music and exuberant people, Ianto turned as soon as his feet touched the flooring in the hallway and made his way quickly back to Captain Harkness.

In his absence, the captain found himself struck into a moment of admiration for the man that had stepped from the crowd of young soldiers, the confidence oozing from him unlike anything he had ever seen before.

"The man of the hour. I've heard a lot about you." Jack, in his heavy coat and blue button down, flashed that grin that so many found so hard to resist. His arm out stretched in greeting as he took the briefest of opportunities to look over the pristine uniform, silently admiring how it fit in all the right places.

"I have heard nothing of you." Captain Harkness laughed, taking the proffered hand and shaking it firmly with his own. "Captain Jack Harkness, of the 133rd."

Jack took a moment to let the information register, his own response delayed enough that he had difficulty in recollecting his thoughts enough to come up with a clever enough response. Not to mention having to come up with a new name.

"Captain..James Harper..71st" He stated proudly, letting go of Captain Harkness' hand as a twinge of sudden doubt at this introduction flitted through his mind. He knew the Captain. He was the Captain, or was in the sense that he stole his identity in order to blend in the last time he was tooling about in the forties. Though Jack had no idea that his namesake was so...hot.

Things suddenly became far more complicated than he liked.

"The 71st, that's where I am hoping to be posted next." Jack grinned, motioning for the bar in delight at having another Captain to speak to. "What's your poison?"

"Ah... maybe later? I am looking for a friend." He offered a smile and motioned over his shoulder, sidestepping and disappearing into the crowd. Captain Harkness watched him go and then simply shrugged off the encounter. Soldiers always behaved just a bit off the norm on the last day of leave.

Ianto stepped around the corner, giving the faintest of glances over his shoulder to see if Bilis had followed him before he straightened his tie and rejoined Jack at his side. There was a shift in the demeanor of the older man, thought slight, it was noticeable enough to Ianto to draw concern. "Everything alright, Sir?"

Captain Harkness nodded, smiling as he clasped a hand on the boy's shoulder and turned him towards the bar. "Yes. Let me buy you a drink, Ianto."

"If you insist, Sir."

"It is my last night before we're back on the front, kid. For one night, you can drop the formalities and call me Jack." He insisted, again, nearing on the edge of making it an order.

"I knew a man named Jack, Sir.. it is why I have been avoiding it." He frowned, taking the clear glass of brandy that was offered to him though he hesitated to drink it.

"I see. The names of those lost in battle are hardly trite or easily forgotten." Jack smiled, just slightly, resting a comforting hand at Ianto's shoulder. "You could have told me."

"There was nothing to tell." Ianto brought the glass to his lips, the liquid burning down his throat for a moment before it was replaced by nothing but smooth flavor. It was Jack's kind of brandy. His Jack. The Jack he would likely never see again.

By the end of the night, the bombs would fall but for now there was music.

There were boys pretending to be brave, losing themselves in the arms of pretty girls.

There was soft lighting and quiet conversation.

There was laughter.

Ianto smiled, glancing up at the Captain as they stood together in silence.

There was smooth brandy, and there was Captain Jack Harkness.

Ianto could feel his heart breaking.


	10. Kiss The Boys Goodbye: Chapter Four

_**Standard Disclaimer: **_

_This is a fan written story arc involving characters [and dialogue] created and owned by Russel T. Davies and the BBC. The following story is fictional and does not portray any real person or event. Any reference to any real person or event is strictly coincidental. _

_No animals were harmed in the making of this fic. _

_**Author's Note:**_

_I injured my neck this weekend, so I have [unfortunately] not been able to update as often as I would like. This chapter is brought to you by the letter P [for pain] and K [for killers]. Hopefully, it is as coherent as I think it is._

_**Twitter: Quinnzical_**_

**Chapter Four**

Love, though one of the most influential emotions in the universe, is not often considered in tense situations. It is likely due to the fact that when one thinks of love, they are immediately bombarded by images of fluffy kittens, blossoming flowers and delicately tied bows atop pristine wrapped packages of chocolate. Pink hearts, doe-eyed teddy bears and whatever other consumerist propaganda that corporate companies have taken to shoving down the throats of the masses.

When Gwen Cooper thought of love, first and foremost, it was the memories of the warm bath she took after her first day on the beat. The smell of the bubbles, the heat dissipating away all of the aches and pains in muscles she hadn't known were there until they were screaming at her. She thought of that moment, and then she thought of Rhys. Her sweet, loyal, stupid Rhys. Always there at her side, regardless of how often she lied to him.

Owen Harper thought of love and images of a brunette with cherry lipstick danced along his memories. Her sweet kisses, her gentle embrace and the way she looked as she flew off into the clouded sky without him. Diane. Brilliant Diane... the only woman since his fiancee that had melted away the cold in his heart and then left it a barren tundra once again.

Toshiko thought of Owen.

She thought of Owen quite constantly, actually, and it was a surprise that their medic hadn't noticed. For being able to spot the most intricate details of how someone was killed, he was completely daft when it came to the living. It was something that Tosh came to accept over months and months of her sly advances being brushed off. She thought of Owen while Owen's heart was up in the clouds.

Love, is a very powerful emotion.

It was love that drove Gwen to raising her gun and aiming it at Owen, and love that had Owen's hand hovering over part of the Rift Manipulator. Gwen wouldn't risk Rhys for anything in the world, and the threat of a cataclysmic fall out happening due to the Rift being opened was something she wasn't going to allow.

It was love that had Owen's hand paused just seconds away from activating the machine, the hope of seeing Diane again, the hope of being able to continue a love that ran away from him.

"There is no other way, Gwen!" Owen shouted, his gaze locked onto the barrel. Love driving him to challenge her threat.

"Don't do this, Owen! Jack wouldn't allow it, and neither will I!" Her hands quivered only slightly, love steadying her aim as she prepared to fire and disable the medic who had a wide burn in his eyes. "Step away from the Manipulator, Owen, or I will shoot!"

Owen looked away from the gun for just a second to shift the last piece into place on the machine, his fingertips touching cold metal as the loud gunshot rang out at an almost deafening volume. But, he didn't feel any bullet wound and didn't register any pain anywhere on his body.

Time slowed as he looked back at Gwen but saw Toshiko standing between them instead.

It was love that had Tosh throwing herself forward into the path of the bullet, love that had her sacrificing herself to save the man that couldn't see how mad she was for him. And though it was panic and a lack of options that sent the bullet flying, it was love that killed Toshiko Sato.

The machine whirred to life.

**Cardiff, 1941**

There were few places within the dance hall that one could go to be alone with ones thoughts. Out of those places, there were even less that didn't leave one feeling just a tad bit uneasy. There was an office, tucked in the back, in which Ianto met the caretaker. A man named Bilis that had one of those voices that made it difficult to feel sane after speaking to him for a period of time. There was also the cellar, but there were enough shadows flickering around due to unstable lighting fixtures, that only a morose poet would feel comfortable lingering for too long.

It was a nook on the upper most floor with a soft but worn couch that Ianto took his leave from the rabble of the party. In that spot he could think without worrying that someone would question the look on his face, and he could close his eyes and reminisce on livelier times with the team he was stolen from without interruption.

Certainly there was something to be desired in the jubilant music that flowed through the wooden arch ways, guiding bashful soldiers into dancing with lovely young women. But dancing with a pretty girl wasn't exactly something that the time traveler had in mind.

He could think of nothing else than how badly he wanted to get home.

To see his sister.

To see Jack.

Just as his thoughts turned to hopeless acceptance of his predicament, Captain Harkness appeared on the stairs with two tumblers half filled with brandy in his hands and a cocked grin on his lips.

"Social gatherings aren't your thing?" He posed the question lightly and invited himself to sit beside the young man. "Me, either...but it's good for the men."

Ianto took a glass when it was offered to him, holding it still in his lap as he debated the pros and cons of getting absolutely knackered before the entire evening went out with a bang.

"What would you do, Sir, if you knew this was likely to be your last night alive?" He glanced over, breaching a sensitive topic for time travelers. It wasn't good practice to start preaching the dooms day prophecy.

"Not one for light conversation, either?" He nearly laughed and stilled the urge when there wasn't even a glimmer of humor on the delicate features of his young employee. "We tend to treat every night like it could be our last, around here. There is no telling whether or not a routine mission will turn into something ..tragic."

"Sometimes you even sound like him.." Ianto said, nearly hushed with memories. "My friend, I mean.. he would have said the same thing. Live every moment as if it is your last, don't be afraid to do what you want because you might not get another chance." He smiled, and Captain Harkness did as well.

Ever so slightly, Ianto felt warm fingertips over the back of his hand and he glanced down as Jack lightly took his hand within his own and gave it the smallest of squeezes. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome and it made Ianto even more homesick than he had been.

They sat together in silence as the music played on below, Ianto taking vague sips of his drink as Captain Harkness held his hand ever so sweetly. The moment continued and so did the nagging little urge to lean forward and kiss the solider. That's what Jack would have done. That's what Jack had done on so many occasions when no one else was around.

A joyous laugh echoed off the stair case, sounding the arrival of another couple seeking out a quiet spot and in an instant, the warm hand around Ianto's was replaced by the cold chill of loneliness once again. The brunette all in curls and rosy cheeked from liquor, giggled as Ianto and Captain Harkness abandoned the couch to make way for the lovers.

"Ianto and I were just discussing his duties.."

"We can go somewhere else." Ianto offered, his eyes hopeful as he licked his lips. When did they get so dry? Why was his heart racing so fast?

"No, it's alright.. I think we've reached a mutual understanding." Captain Harkness avoided eye contact, and for a moment Ianto considered whether or not he was ashamed of the innocent encounter that occurred. It was a different time, after all, and men certainly did not share affection for one another. Jack turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, leaving Ianto standing awkwardly beside the young couple who were intent to snog the night away.

Jack Harkness, in the guise of James Harper, was a man out of his time in so many ways, and yet he was having no problem blending in with the well trained military men of the dance hall. He mingled, he danced, he sipped at glasses of water and through it all he kept a careful eye for anyone even vaguely resembling Ianto.

He could feel it in his gut that this was the place and tonight was the night that he would find their lost friend. His lost lover. It started to feel impossible though, after every room was searched and nearly every uniformed man was looked over. Jack began to wonder if every time he entered a room, if Ianto happened to just be stepping out of it through another door. Was this tragedy becoming some sort of farce?

It was the swift movement on an upper floor balcony that caught his attention, his gaze drifting up as he spotted a finely pressed suit in the midst of all the military greens and dime store dresses. From a distance the dark hair and strong jawline were unmistakably Ianto, and it had Jack nearly shoving through the crowds as he made his way to the stair case.

"Captain Harper! Enjoying the evening?" Captain Harkness met him halfway down the stairs, stopping him with an idle clap to his shoulder and a bright grin. It was a charming smile, and normally one that Jack would stop for in an instant.

"I'm sorry, Captain. I think I've just spotting my friend I was looking for. I'll meet you for a drink in a moment?" He smiled and continued on his way, taking the steps two at a time as he hurried to the quiet landing. His eyes were bright with excitement, and the smile on his lips was warm enough to challenge the sun, but when he reached the secluded balcony everything faded.

Ianto wasn't there.

Jack furrowed his brow, glancing at the couple that were too lost within each other to notice or to be of any help, but there was only one way down and as far as he knew, Ianto couldn't just flicker into invisibility. There was a door ajar only a few feet away, the room beyond was dark and quiet. If Ianto disappeared anywhere, it was likely to be there.

He stepped forward and lightly pushed aside the door, leaning to peek inside. His eyes taking a moment to adjust to the shift in lighting, the dark shadows of furniture and shapeless blobs of gray becoming notable figures in the ill-lit room.

"Ianto?" He called out softly, and within the darkness, something moved.


	11. Kiss The Boys Goodbye: Final Chapter

_**Kiss The Boys Goodbye**_

_**Standard Disclaimer: **_

_This is a fan written story arc involving characters [and dialogue] created and owned by Russel T. Davies and the BBC. The following story is fictional and does not portray any real person or event. Any reference to any real person or event is strictly coincidental. _

_No animals were harmed in the making of this fic. _

_**Author's Note:**_

_Silly, readers. No one ever __**stays**__ dead in Torchwood. _

_Additionally, this is the final chapter for the Don't Blink / Kiss The Boys Goodbye story arc. _

_Thank you all for reading and your comments have been invaluable to me. _

_Twitter: Quinnzical__

In the empty space between awake and dreaming, Toshiko Sato often thought about Owen Harper. It said very little due to how much time she spent thinking of him when she wasn't floating about in her own subconscious, but said a great deal when she found herself in the weightless void; thinking of nothing.

There was a significant lack of girlish flights of fancy involving one charmingly aloof medic, an even more startling realization that there was a lack of anything. It was empty, but not cold, and the darkness seemed eternal. There was also a lack of fear, anger, or any emotion to give some sort of perspective to this new dream scape. The darkness simply existed and Tosh existed within it.

With no concept of time, she hadn't known how long it remained silent until the smallest break in the emptiness made her think of Owen once again. It was as if his voice was held captive in a jar on a shelf that was an entire universe away, and someone had lifted the lid for just a moment.

While Toshiko sat amongst the darkness, Owen worked feverishly beneath blinding lights as a faint heart beat played out a steady rhythm on the machines behind him. It was that heartbeat that kept his hands from shaking and his temper in the realms of normal. If it wasn't for the continual pulse, Torchwood would be hiring for three new positions, starting with the liaison to the local authorities.

Gwen paced the railing above the autopsy bay, her gaze darting between the whirring rift manipulator and the brilliant shade of red painted across the sterile white. Her thumb nail clenched firmly between her teeth, there were no words that would make right what had occurred. She meant to injure Owen, to stop him from making a terrible mistake, but hadn't counted on Tosh sacrificing herself on behalf of their medic.

With no sign as to what opening the rift may have done and no change in Tosh's condition, there were few other options. The machine continued to whir, and the steady beep of a faint heartbeat filled the hub. Owen worked, Gwen paced and Tosh sat within the darkness.

Waiting.

**Cardiff, 1941**

Jack slid his hand along the wall to feel for a light switch, catching the smooth plastic between his fingertips, he gave it a flick and glanced around. The room was no more than storage with a small window set high on one wall. The shadowy movement caused by the lightest of breezes through the cracked glass, caressing aside a sheer curtain. There was no Ianto lingering alone in the room, though the captain was certain he saw him on the balcony just a moment earlier.

He cursed silently to himself and turned, his jaw tensing. It would seem that chasing Ianto around was getting him no where, and every lost child knew that the best way to be found was to simply stay put. Jack folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the balcony railing, looking down upon the mingling guests.

"Not long now, Sir." Bilis said from behind him, the elderly caretaker seemingly appearing out of nowhere on the landing. Jack glanced at him for only a moment before turning his attention back to the soldiers. They danced and Jack watched, at least it was a good vantage point.

"Not long for what?" He asked without looking, but no answer came in reply. Jack turned again and furrowed his brow. It was enough with Ianto vanishing, but prophetic old men pulling a disappearing act had a habit of making the hairs on the back of his neck quiver. Stepping away from the railing, he started heading back down the stairs with one last careful glance over his shoulder.

Near the bar, Ianto found Captain Harkness sitting alone with only a glass of brandy as company. He looked almost downtrodden, though any passing soldier would get a brave smile on his lips. He watched him for a moment through the shifting crowd, his fingers tapping lightly at his own hip as the decision in his mind was wrestled into resolution.

He took a few slow steps before his movements became determined, and before any protest could be formed by his own doubts or the confusion of the captain in front of him, Ianto took his hand and silently invited him to dance.

They danced without care, without fear and without shame.

Strong hands wrapped lightly around strong hands and well defined jaw lines brushed lightly against one another. The warmth between them was enough to part Ianto's lips for a moment, a soft breath shifted lightly past Jack's ear. In those moments, nothing else mattered. The war that was going on seemed harmless and the whispers of the men around them were nothing more than a background track to the sweet melody that the band was playing. In those moments, there was no danger. In those moments, there was no time travel. It was only Ianto and Captain Jack Harkness.

But not his Jack. Not his Jack, that traveled through time itself to find him. He knew he would come. He knew that any moment he would arrive to rescue him from whatever odd fate he had befallen. This was the night, and this was the place and there was only time standing between them.

"I may..have to leave before the night is over." He whispered softly, his thumb shifting lightly against the other mans hand as if to offer even a semblance of comfort. What comfort could be given for an impending abandonment with little to no explanation.

"You could stay." The response was unexpected, and barely over a whisper from the lips of the man that held him close. They shifted together, slowly turning as the music continued. Ianto let the words sink in and as he parted his lips to speak, he found all vocabulary and ability to vocalize it gone by a familiar face in the crowd.

"Jack.."

Having finally gotten the young man to say his name, Captain Harkness raised a brow at how serious the implication that he was leaving really was. He shifted to look at him, and poised to question it but a bright light from the entry way stopped everything. The music fell still, and Ianto was looking back at the door with so many emotions painted across his features that it was difficult to define them all in those few short moments.

Jack stepped from the crowd and grabbed for Ianto's arm, having found him finally he was not about to lose him again just as their way home was granted. The younger man shifted slightly, pulling free his arm as he looked back at the dapper soldier standing alone in the middle of the dance floor.

"Ianto, we have to go." Jack was saying, motioning for him to step forward. Away from the past, away from the history that he had been thrown into and away from Captain Harkness.

"He needs me, Jack."

"I need you, Ianto.. There is nothing you can do for him." Jack shook his head, glancing towards the white light as if expecting it to have faded. "Trust me."

It was first one foot that turned and then the other, Ianto's steps leading himself away from the last month and back home without any regard to how it tugged at his heart. Could he just walk away? Could he leave it like this? Without any resolution? Any finality?

Ianto stopped and reversed course, rapidly stepping across the wooden flooring. His hands grasped almost desperately for the front of Captain Harkness' uniform as he leaned up and pulled him in to a kiss. There were hands at his neck, soft fingers rubbing lightly at his cheeks and along the edge of his ear. They parted for a moment if only to pull in a hesitant breath before Ianto whispered a soft goodbye and stepped away with Jack into the light.

Leaving history behind them, and Captain Jack Harkness with it.

** Present Day**

It took Ianto a moment to speak once his feet were solidly on twenty first century cement and his lungs were full of the polluted tang of twenty first century air. He did so while leaning back against the brick wall of the dance hall, tugging at a string danging from the cuff of his shirt.

"What happens to him, Jack?" He asked, squinting against the sun light as he looked up at the man who saved him.

"He dies. His squad is ambushed the next day while on a routine training run. Not a single one of his men is lost, but he dies." Jack stepped forward, standing in front of Ianto as he took a moment to look him over, brushing a hand lightly against his cheek.

"We were together every day for over a month and I still knew so little about him. Both of us, pretending to be someone we weren't." He muttered, subconsciously leaning his cheek against Jack's hand. The feeling of something familiar, something lost and then found, nearly overwhelming.

"Did you want to stay?" Jack asked, leaning close enough to place a light kiss on Ianto's forehead.

"Would you miss me?"

"Yes." He replied without missing a beat. Ianto looked up at him, the corner of his lips twitching just the slightest.

"I belong here, Jack. I always have. Nothing in any other time or across any other universe will ever mean as much to me as those that I've loved here." He let his hand rest on Jack's coat, brushing his fingers over the fastenings before he curled his fingers in the thick fabric and leaned up for a kiss. "I wouldn't change that for anything."

**Prologue**

Toshiko made her way into Jack's office, her arm in a sling but a grin on her lips and a bottle of liquor in her hand. She knocked lightly at the door with the glass, stepping inside to set it on the desk. Jack looked up from the paperwork from Ianto's case, grinning brightly to see her recovering well.

"Ianto said that he met another Captain Jack Harkness in the past." Idly, she poured the drinks and slid one slightly over to the man before her. "Why did he have your name, Jack?"

"I took his name. I needed to blend in. I needed a cover.. so I took his name, his identity and made it seem like he had never died that day." Jack took the glass between his fingertips, watching the liquid shift about before he took a slow drink. It burned down his throat, warming him from within. "He was a better man than me."

"He would have been proud of you, Jack." She stated firmly, leaning against the side of his desk. "He would have been proud to have you take his name." Tosh smiled, leaning slightly to catch his gaze as she raised her glass enough to clink it against the side of his own.

"To Captain Jack."

He smiled, at last and nodded in agreement. "To Captain Jack."

**The End**


End file.
